Course Correction
by htdcd
Summary: Playing around with time-turners has its consequences - do all of them *have* to be so bad? Snarry goodness at its finest!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All intellectual & physical property rights to Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling & Warner Bros.

**Course Correction**

HP/SS::18+

Chapter 1

Harry Potter stared at the Whomping Willow. The tree that had so much potential for destruction sat unmoving, stilled in the warm night air. Harry was just beyond the boundary that would send it into a frenzy; he was engaging in an internal debate. What would he find there, if he went back now? Should he even go? Why did he feel like he should? The castle stood in the background, battle scarred and jagged, turrets crumbling from the recent assault. He fingered the frayed edge of his shirt, fidgeting under the invisibility cloak. Wand in his right hand, pointed downward, listless at his side, he bit his bottom lip in indecision. Everyone else was back there, up in the castle recovering. Even Ron and Hermione, who had been with him in the Headmaster's office when he talked to Professor Dumbledore's portrait. He'd told them he would be fine, that they could go without him to the Great Hall to be with Ron's family as they grieved over Fred. Hermione's look of concern had almost convinced him to stay, but she'd finally given him a faltering smile and squeezed his hand before letting him leave.

He stared at the tree again. He decided. He was going. He still couldn't articulate why, exactly, but he knew that this was something he had to do. He raised his wand and cast an _Immobulus_ charm on the tree and advanced toward the opening at its base. Crouching in the dark, he made his way along the path, wand lit in front of him. Slowly, the earth began to slope upward, indicating his arrival at the destination, the Shrieking Shack. He listened for a moment before entering, waiting to hear if someone else might be there, but he only heard silence – a deafening, foreboding silence that made him second guess his decision to come.

The scene hadn't changed. Lying on the floor, ghostly white – gray almost – blood drying on his robes, his neck, and the floor, was Severus Snape. Well, his body, anyway; his soul was long since removed. Harry stared without moving. He'd had his opinions changed since last encountering the man – the memories had seen to that. He couldn't help looking at Snape from a different perspective now, seeing the man behind the mask Harry had known for so long. Harry removed the invisibility cloak slowly, kneeling down beside the empty shell of the former Potions Master. He reached his hand out and slowly dragged his fingers down Snape's arm, from shoulder to fingertips – gently, as if trying not to wake a sleeping child. It was unfair, so unfair, the life this man had led. Harry felt the first tear fall from his eye, trickling down his cheek in an uneven line until it came to rest at the crux of his chin. _Everything was so unfair_. And then the dam burst. Tears began flowing in earnest – tears for Fred, for Lupin, for Tonks, for Sirius, for Dumbledore, for Colin, for Dobby, for himself. So many tears for himself – for the life he'd been forced to lead, for the absence of his parents, of a real family, of being locked in a cupboard for ten years, for having the responsibility of a wizened adult thrust upon his shoulders as a mere child. This man, Severus Snape, had done unspeakable things, things that Harry would never fully understand, but it shouldn't have been that way. None of it should have been that way. Harry found himself gasping for breath as he choked back the sobs, anger rising in place of grief. One man – one evil, evil man – was responsible for all of this terror, death, destruction, and sorrow. How could one man cause so much pain? How? It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Harry realized he hadn't removed his hand from Snape's. Snape was cold and stiff, death a startling reality. Harry stared at his hand on Snape's, then moved his eyes up to rest on the face of the man who had made his life a living hell for seven years, only to change everything Harry thought he knew after learning the truth. _Change_, Harry thought to himself. What could he change? There was nothing he could change. The dead were dead, the past was past, and the future was…painful…empty…uncertain. But what could he change? As if a blinding light had suddenly shone through the cracks in the Shack's decaying walls, Harry had a moment of brilliant clarity.

He could change everything.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry ran back up to the castle, heart pounding not from physical exertion but from adrenaline. The cloak rippled around him as he flew in the dark, exposing his feet to the empty grounds. He slowed as he reached the entrance to the castle, catching his breath and trying desperately to be quiet – it wouldn't do for someone to see him; stop him. He quietly made his way through the halls until he arrived at the place he sought – the gargoyle. The staircase was still visible, same as before, when he'd gone up with Ron and Hermione. He made his way up and pushed the door open. As he approached the desk, he looked up at the portraits. Most of them were empty; the ones that were occupied seemed to all be sleeping. Harry decided that was good – he didn't want even the paintings trying to reason with him. He didn't know _how_ he knew, he just _did_. He raised his wand and whispered forcefully.

"_Accio Time Turner_."

He heard a rattling noise and then suddenly, a small, golden object collided with the cloak. He reached his hand out and took the object by the chain, a delirious smile on his face. They'd destroyed the collection at the Ministry two years ago, but Harry knew Dumbledore had to have his own somewhere – the man _had_ to have one. He'd intimated on several occasions that he went back in time, and somehow Harry knew that he'd left a personal Time Turner behind. Grasping the object tightly, he drew in a sharp breath as his head snapped up at a sound – a soft snore from Dumbledore's portrait. The man in the painting shifted slightly in his chair, head drooping on his chest. Harry stared for a moment longer, then set his mouth in a determined line and turned on his heel to leave the room.

Harry stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and put the Time Turner around his neck. He knew when to go, where to go, and what to do. He also knew he was breaking about fifty laws and risked Azkaban if he was caught. But he didn't plan on being caught. Truth be told, he didn't have much of a plan at all – just a mission. A single-minded, driven, passionate mission. Concentrating on the information he'd learned about the man who once was called Tom Riddle, Harry turned the hourglass the correct number of times and felt the world around him lurch as he was pulled back in time.

The area around him finally righted itself and Harry's wave of motion sickness faded. He looked up and saw the castle untouched and whole, the way it should be. He glanced around the grounds and noticed that Hagrid's hut was nowhere in sight. Taking that as a sign his mission was off to a good start, he turned on the spot and Disapparated with a soft pop, still beneath his father's cloak.

The orphanage looked much the same as it had in Dumbledore's memory – cold, austere, and dingy. Harry moved into a crook in the wall near the corner of the building and waited. He waited and waited. It began to rain. He cast an _Impervious_ charm to keep himself dry. And he waited. Finally, he spotted his quarry. A bedraggled – and very pregnant – Merope Gaunt lumbered through the rain toward the orphanage front steps. She was going to pass right in front of Harry. For the space of two heartbeats, Harry paused. He almost faltered. _You have to mean them, Potter_, Bellatrix's voice echoed in his head. Then, adrenaline overtook him and he raised his wand, pointing it at eye-level as the distorted woman crossed his path.

"_Avada Kedavra_," he whispered. No one could have heard him over the rain – not that it mattered, there wasn't another soul in sight. She crumpled to the ground in an instant, and he hoisted her up to drag her into the alley. His stomach turned, threatening to toss its non-existent contents. He didn't know if it was because of what he'd just done or who he was being forced to touch, but it was sickening. Once he'd managed to conceal her from the street, he looked at her again. He noticed a strange sight at her abdomen. He removed her cloak and watched as he saw the thing inside her thrashing about, trying to claw its way out of the dead incubator. Horrified by what he saw, and terrified simultaneously, he raised his wand again, this time, pointing it directly at the bulge.

"_Avada Kedavra_," he repeated, the green light flashing again, absorbing into the body. The movement stopped. He exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and looked around him, as if he wasn't sure where he was or how he'd gotten there. He shivered, though not from the cold or the rain. Grimly satisfied, he waved his wand a final time and in place of the dead woman and her unborn child was a small, shiny, silver object. Harry bent down to pick up the trinket – all that was left of the man who now would never be. He slipped the miniature snake figurine into his pocket and turned on the spot, reappearing once again at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Looking up at the night sky, he gazed at the moon, waxing gibbous, and fingered his wand. He pulled out the Time Turner and flipped the hourglass between his fingers, preparing for the unsettling sensation once more.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Harry's first thought was confusion. Confusion in a good way, but confusion. The castle was pristine – untouched – unsullied by battle. He performed a quick _Tempora_ charm and confirmed that it was the same day he'd left, just a later hour. He looked around the grounds and saw Hagrid's hut again, which he thought was odd because Hagrid shouldn't have been expelled in his third year if Riddle hadn't been at Hogwarts. Shrugging it off, Harry made his way back up to the castle.

The hallways were silent as he walked across the stone floors, passing lit torches on his way to the common room. It was not too long after Easter holidays, and it was a Friday night, so people should be up in the tower studying for exams. He made it to the Fat Lady portrait and realized he had no idea what the password might be.

"Erm," he mumbled, pulling the cloak off.

"Well?" she inquired haughtily.

"I, well, I'm not sure what the password is," he replied.

"That's unfortunate for you, then, isn't it?" she smirked maliciously.

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled the cloak back on, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. Maybe he could doze off for a while until someone came out of the tower. Harry didn't have any idea how long he'd been out when he was suddenly jerked awake by the sound of voices and the opening of the portrait.

"…seen him?" a boy was saying.

"No idea, he never came back last night," the other one answered.

Harry watched as the conversers made their way into the hallway. _Dean and Seamus!_ Harry thought with a sigh of relief, and he pulled off his cloak.

"Hey!" he called after them, watching them whip around in surprise.

"Harry!" Seamus cried. "Where've you been? The match starts in twenty minutes! Everyone's looking for you!"

"Match?" Harry asked, pushing himself to his feet.

"What're you doing out here?" Dean asked, giving Harry a once-over.

"Erm, forgot the password," Harry lied. Both boys rolled their eyes at him.

"Well, you'd better get to the Quidditch rooms and change or we'll have to forfeit. And Ron'll have your head. And probably McGonagall, too," Seamus said, grabbing Harry's arm and leading him out of the castle.

"Harry!" a chorus of voices greeted him when he made his way into the Quidditch locker room.

"Where've you been?" Ginny asked with concern. Harry's heart leapt at the sight of her, even though it had only been a few hours for him since he'd last seen her.

"We looked everywhere for you, mate," Ron said, pulling his robes over his head and smoothing out his hair. Harry's stomach soared at the sight of Ron as well, nearly forgetting what he'd done the night before. This all seemed so normal – so…familiar.

"Forgot the password," Harry lied again. Ron rolled his eyes.

"So," Ron continued, "What's the game plan?"

Harry's eyes darted around nervously. "Well, erm, who're we playing?"

His teammates' mouths dropped open in unison.

"Slytherin, Harry…for the cup…are you feeling all right?" Ginny was the first to speak.

"What?" Harry hastily tried to recover. "Yeah, fine, just…sleeping on the floor was a bit rough." He looked around and saw that his answer mollified them. "Well, we'll do what we always do when we play them – hope they don't cheat, score more than they do, and I'll get the Snitch before that git Malfoy does." Ron snorted at the last comment and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Let's go," Harry said, and he led his team out onto the pitch.

Madame Hooch blew the whistle and everyone kicked off the ground. Harry immediately began searching for the elusive golden ball, losing himself in the familiarity of the game. Finally, after several scores by both teams, Harry spotted the tell-tale glint of his prize over by the Gryffindor stands. He leaned forward on his broom and bolted off in that direction, following the flitting ball with his eyes. He drew closer and closer to the stands, the Snitch dancing just above one of the bleachers filled with red and gold-clad cheering bodies. Once he was right on top of them, he dared a distracted glance down at those beneath him, trying to locate the source of an unfamiliar voice crying, _'Come on, Harry!'_ His eyes darted back up to make sure he hadn't lost sight of the Snitch and to make sure that Malfoy hadn't caught it, either. Another glance down and his heart stopped dead in his chest. He couldn't breathe. His hand slipped off the broom and he twisted to right himself. He felt Malfoy whiz past him toward the Snitch, but Harry couldn't look away. He was paralyzed. He was hypnotized. Directly beneath him he stared right into his own eyes. His own eyes in the face of a beautiful, red-haired woman seated next to a man with hazel eyes, round glasses, and messy brown hair. The world began to blacken at the edges of Harry's vision. He tried to draw breath, but couldn't seem to make his lungs work. He felt himself slipping again on the broom, but coordination didn't seem possible. He was falling, falling, and the world went away.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Harry?"

Harry heard someone calling his name. He tried breathing. It hurt.

"I think he's waking up," he heard another voice. A familiar voice. He tried to open his eyes. They were heavy.

"Let me check him," another familiar voice, then whispered spells and the feather-light touch of a wand on his skin.

"Is he all right?" a concerned someone very near him on his left side spoke.

"Harry? You awake?" Ron's voice came from the foot of his bed.

Harry gathered all his strength and forced his eyes open. Everything was blurry.

"Oh thank goodness, darling," the voice on his left spoke again and the body attached to it squeezed his hand. He turned toward the sound but couldn't make out who it might be. There was red hair – maybe Mrs. Weasley?

"Get him his glasses," Harry heard someone bark from several feet away. His heart leapt into his chest. He knew that voice. He hadn't heard that voice in almost two years. Harry closed his hands around the frames that were pushed into his right hand and he lifted his arm, wincing in pain, as he put his glasses on.

"Si…Sirius?" Harry gasped, his voice rough and dry. The man who sounded like Sirius, and looked a bit like him, too – like the Sirius Harry had seen in old pictures, broke into a wide smile, crossing his arms and nodding at Harry.

"Harry?" the voice on his right spoke and he turned his head, stifling a groan of pain, toward the sound.

"Hermione!" he breathed out, a smile cracking his dried lips.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gingerly, looking as concerned as she always did whenever he wound up in the infirmary.

Harry closed his eyes and rolled his head back to center of his pillow, resting and angling up slightly at the ceiling. "Like I fell off a broom," he deadpanned. He heard Ron's laugh. "Again," Harry added.

"Again?" one of the unfamiliar voices asked from the other side of Ron. Harry snapped his head at the sound. This time he couldn't hide his moan of discomfort. "When else have you fallen off a broom?" The man with the glasses, hazel eyes, and messy hair was at the foot of his bed, a puzzled look on his face.

Harry felt his world begin to spin and he wondered vaguely who was breathing so hard and why his bed was vibrating before he realized it was he who was dragging in ragged breaths and shaking violently. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to slow his heart.

"Harry? What's wrong, love?" the voice at his left spoke again. Knowing what he would see, Harry tried to keep his eyes closed, but his body wouldn't let him. He looked over and saw her – green eyes, wildly red hair, concerned face filled with love. For him. Concern and love for him.

Harry tried to speak but all he managed to do was open and close his mouth like a fish. Madame Pomfrey was suddenly at his side prodding him with her wand again. He felt calmed down in spite of himself and he finally choked out, "Mum? Dad?" The woman seated beside him broke into a wide smile and squeezed his hand again and the man at the foot of his bed gently placed his hand on Harry's covered foot. Harry felt like he was staring into the Mirror of Erised back in his first year.

"I think it's time Mr. Potter got some much-needed rest," Madame Pomfrey bustled about, herding Harry's visitors out of the infirmary.

"Wait!" Harry blurted out. "Hermione! Please can I talk to Hermione? Alone? Before she goes?"

Hermione exchanged a glance with the other people in the room, seeming slightly uncomfortable with the situation. "Erm, of course, Harry – would you rather…"

"No!" Harry cut her off. "I have to talk to you. Please," he added. Lily nodded at Hermione and Madame Pomfrey huffed in acceptance but only allowed fifteen minutes. Harry waited until everyone else was completely out of sight and earshot before turning to Hermione, who had resumed her spot at Harry's bedside.

"Harry, I…" she began, but Harry spoke over her.

"Listen," he pleaded, "I've done something – something…well…something. You're the only one who'll believe me. You have to tell me everything," he babbled. Hermione looked like she was about to call back Madame Pomfrey. "No! I'm not mad, or ill, or anything. Listen, I need you to answer some questions for me. And I need you to not ask me why I'm asking you. Even if the questions seem bizarre."

"Harry, are you sure you're…" Hermione cut in.

"I'm _fine_," Harry assured her. "Please, will you tell me what I need to know?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip but finally nodded.

"All right," Harry began with a deep breath, pain spasming through his ribs. "What would you say if I said 'Voldemort'?"

Hermione contracted her brow. "Erm, bless you?"

Harry's eyes widened. "You don't know who that is? What about if I asked you about Tom Riddle. Ever heard of him?"

"Riddle?" Hermione's face grew even more puzzled. "Like a joke? I don't understand, Harry."

Harry waved her off, regretting it instantly as agony coursed through his shoulder. "What happened to Professor Dumbledore?"

"Happened to him?" Hermione's eyebrows rose. "What do you mean? Nothing's happened to him."

"He's alive?" Harry drew in a sharp breath, his heart lodging in his throat.

Hermione shook her head in confusion. "Of course he's alive. What did you think happened to him? Harry, you're not making any sense, I really think I should get…"

"No!" Harry cut her off again. "You promised." She looked like she was very much regretting that promise, but she nodded in acquiescence. "Were those…those two people…were they my parents? Were they James and Lily?"

Hermione looked alarmed now. "Harry, you don't recognize your own parents?"

Harry's eyes filled with tears. "It's really them? And was that Sirius? Was that him behind Ron?"

"Yes, but…" Hermione was twitching in her seat, clearly deciding if it wasn't worth facing Harry's wrath to go and get Madame Pomfrey.

"I'm _fine_, Hermione, really, I just have a few more questions," he pressed on. "Snape," he continued. "What about Snape?"

"P…Professor Snape?" Hermione had gone back to perplexed. "What about him? Would you like me to go and get him?"

"He's alive?" Harry's heart flooded with unexpected relief at the news.

"Of course he's alive. Why do you keep asking that? Who else are you thinking is dead?"

"Lupin?" Harry asked immediately.

"Alive," Hermione answered as if she were placating a mental patient.

"Fred?"

"Alive."

"Tonks?"

"Alive."

"Dobby?"

"Dobby?" Hermione asked back. "Who is Dobby?"

Harry's heart sank again. He hadn't been able to free Dobby in this timeline. That meant the poor elf was still enslaved to the Malfoy's. Which reminded Harry of something else. "Malfoy," he began, "What about Malfoy?"

"He's alive, too," Hermione assured him.

"No, I know that, I mean…do we hate him?"

"Hate him? Well," Hermione thought for a moment, "he _is_ a Slytherin, but I'm not sure that means we automatically hate him. He's a bit arrogant, but we don't really spend much time around him. Why?"

"He doesn't hate me?" Harry was incredulous.

"Not more than he hates anybody else, I don't think," admitted Hermione.

Harry let out a breath. "Who's Minister for Magic?" he asked suddenly.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," Hermione answered.

"Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?" Harry continued.

"The Order of…the what? Dumbledore has a phoenix," she tried.

"No, not Fawkes," Harry clarified. "I guess the Order doesn't exist."

"Harry, you really should rest," Hermione pleaded. "I think that fall really put you out of it."

"No, I'm _fine_," Harry repeated emphatically. "Well, I hurt like bloody hell, but only my body. My mind's fine."

Hermione stood to leave, completely unconvinced.

"Fine, I'll go to sleep," Harry conceded. "Hermione," he called to her as she left. She turned around, worry in her eyes. "Would you…could you please not tell anyone what we talked about?" She looked at him and opened her mouth as if she was going to deny him his request. "Please?" he pleaded. She smiled a small smile and nodded, then made her way out of the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey was over in a flash and ordering him to take a sleeping draught, which he did, and was soon blissfully unaware of his surroundings.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Harry was bored. He'd been forced to stay in the hospital for much longer than he felt was necessary – he still had three days left before he completed his sentence. He was working on some assignments, trying not to fall behind, which was a challenge because he hadn't actually been at school for his seventh year. Luckily, Hermione was being a gracious help as usual and he was getting caught up. He continued to ask her questions to see how his actions had affected reality, but so far he hadn't heard anything that gave him cause for concern. In fact, he'd learned several things that were much better than he'd hoped for. Of course, his parents were alive, which was fantastic in and of itself. But he had been accosted by a young girl a few days ago, bounding into the infirmary and plopping herself on his bed, throwing her arms around him in a hug and spewing out questions at top speed. He'd answered them all as best he could, but for the life of him had no idea who this child was – she looked to be perhaps a second-year student. Maybe third. After she'd left, Hermione had come back up to see him through a particularly difficult Charms essay and he'd asked her about the girl.

"Iris?" Hermione clarified. "She said she was coming to see you, she's been so worried about you."

"Iris?" Harry questioned. "Should I know her?"

Hermione looked scandalized. "Harry! She's your sister! You don't recognize your own sister?"

Harry's eyes had popped wide. "I have a sister?"

"And a brother," Hermione added, long since past the time that she questioned him about his bizarre memory loss and strange questions.

"A…a brother, too?" Harry felt emotion welling in his chest.

"Yes, Ian. He'll be starting Hogwarts next year."

"Incredible," Harry whispered.

Harry's parents had gone back home as soon as they were sure Harry was going to recover from his fall. He'd chatted briefly with Sirius before he left as well, and with Lupin, who it turned out was the permanent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher – and had been for a decade. He'd asked his father at one point where Peter Pettigrew was, expecting the four Marauders to be together.

"Pettigrew?" James concentrated, "Hmmm, I'm not sure. I haven't seen him since I left Hogwarts. I don't know what he's up to these days."

"Weren't you friends with him at school?" Harry asked.

James shook his head. "Not really. Why?"

"No reason," Harry said quickly, relieved that the traitor wasn't part of his life in this alternate timeline.

But now Harry was bored. Hermione had left for the evening and so had his other friends. He was staring at the ceiling, trying to follow the maze of cracks when he heard a voice at the foot of his bed.

"Harry?"

The baritone that Harry would recognize anywhere snapped his head forward and he found himself staring at a very alive Severus Snape. He was in his teaching robes and looked nearly as Harry remembered him. Not quite as sallow, and not sneering as he usually was, but still intimidating, nonetheless.

"Snape?" Harry blurted out.

Severus' brows contracted with concern. "Harry, are you all right?"

Harry was stunned. He'd never heard Snape call him by his first name willingly.

"What…what are you doing here?" Harry was reeling from the oddity that was Snape standing at his bed in the infirmary. Perhaps he was here to take points for a bad assignment?

"Seeing if you are well. I had meant to come up before now, but haven't been able to find the time until this evening."

"You…you're checking on me?" Harry was dumbfounded. "To see if I'm…all right?"

"Of course, Harry, you nearly gave us a heart attack with that fall. I had to leave before you woke up afterwards, but your father assured me you were going to be all right."

Harry shook his head to clear it. He must be dreaming. Or hallucinating. He pinched himself. "Ow."

"What on Earth are you doing?" Snape walked over to Harry's bedside and sat down in a chair, scooting it towards where Harry lay.

"Trying to wake up," Harry admitted.

"Why are you assuming you are asleep?" Snape asked carefully.

"Well, you're here," Harry replied, as if Snape were missing the obvious. "And you're…checking to make sure I'm…okay. And…you talked to my dad. About if I would be okay."

Severus wasn't following. "Why wouldn't I want to check on you? And why wouldn't I ask your father about your prognosis? Harry, you're acting very odd…it's worrying me."

Harry gaped. "Are you…are you really Snape? Are you someone else using the Polyjuice?"

Severus reached out his hand to feel Harry's forehead for a fever and Harry flinched back before contact was made. A look of confusion and hurt flashed across Severus' face. "What's wrong, Harry? And why do you keep calling me by my surname?"

"Snape?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I've never heard you call me that before. Why are you doing it?" Severus had crossed his arms after realizing his touch was not welcome.

"Why are you calling me Harry?" Harry countered. "And what do I usually call you?"

"Why am I calling you…usually call me? Well, in class you address me as 'Professor' but outside of class you've always addressed me as Severus – for as long as I can remember."

"And…how long is that, sir?" Harry wondered.

"Well, since you learned to talk. I suppose your second Christmas was the first time you could manage my whole name," Severus smiled fondly.

"You…" Harry spluttered, "You see me at Christmas?"

"Of course," Severus shook his head with concern, "I always attend your parents' Christmas holiday party. We all do."

"No." Harry said flatly.

"Pardon?" Severus raised a single brow.

"You're friends. With my parents. You. And my dad. Are friends." Harry said each phrase with unfamiliarity – as if it were a foreign language.

"We have always been. Well, only with your father and Sirius and Lupin since school, but I've been friends with your mother since our childhood."

Harry's head was spinning. "Sir, I think…I think I need to get some rest. I…I'm not feeling so well all of a sudden."

"Of course, Harry," Severus reached out and patted Harry's hand before he remembered that Harry had shrunk away from his previous touch. Harry jumped at the contact. "I hope…you feel better soon."

Harry felt the words choke in his throat, "Thank you, erm, sir."

Severus nodded once and eyed him carefully before exiting the infirmary, leaving Harry with a very surreal feeling.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Harry had resumed his classes. Well, for him it was really more like starting his classes, but to everyone else he'd only been out a week. Due to the experiences he'd had with Ron and Hermione during their hunt for Horcruxes, Harry had been able to pick up quite a bit about Charms, Transfiguration, and he'd always been good at Defense, but he was struggling with Potions. Not only had he missed the entire seventh year curriculum, but the sixth year that he actually remembered he'd only used Snape's old textbook and hadn't really learned as much as he ought to have. He was failing spectacularly.

"Harry," Snape called out after a particularly dismal class period, "Would you stay after, please? I wish to speak with you."

Harry cringed involuntarily. He still wasn't used to hearing his first name on Snape's lips, and was even more uncomfortable with the friendly demeanor now issued by the Potions Professor. He was still relentlessly strict as a professor, but outside of class, he acted as if he and Harry had never hated each other at all – which Harry supposed was sort of true, in this reality, at least. Harry made his way up to Snape's desk and gazed at the ground, his eyes tracing imaginary cracks on the floor.

"Harry, this has gone far enough," Snape began, leaning back against the front of his desk and folding his arms across his chest. "If you do not wish to speak with me about it, I must insist you do so with someone else. Perhaps Sirius, or Remus. Hermione seems to be most willing to help you in your recovery."

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled out of habit.

"You most certainly are _not_ fine," Snape disagreed. "You have been making mistakes lately that I cannot fathom. It's as if you've retained nothing from this year. If Madame Pomfrey cannot heal your memory loss, perhaps it is time we consulted someone at St. Mungo's."

"No!" Harry snapped his head up. "No, I swear, sir, I don't need to go to St. Mungo's. It's just, things are a bit jumbled right now. I have my memories but…they're not quite clear yet." And that was the truth. Harry was trying to sift through the new memories he had acquired as a result of his meddling with time. He had a lifetime of memories now that were overlapping with his previous ones. He was learning how to recall the right ones when needed, but it was proving difficult to master.

"Well," Snape continued, "Something must be done. Your NEWTs are coming up quickly. I hate to say it, but if you were to sit them now, I'm quite sure you would not pass – at least not Potions. I am told by your other professors that you are performing adequately in your other subjects."

"You…you talked to my other teachers?" Harry was shocked. "About how I was doing? Why?"

Snape stared at him with an unfathomable expression. Harry was familiar with it.

"Never mind, sir," he hastily continued. "I…I'll work harder. I'll pass my NEWTs."

"Come into my office, Harry," Severus finally said, motioning for Harry to follow him through the door at the side of the classroom.

This was not what Harry wanted. He wanted to be dismissed from Snape's presence, not have to spend even more time with the man.

"Sit," Snape commanded. Harry flopped down into the armchair in front of the large wooden desk. Snape's eyes bored into Harry's. Harry found it impossible to look away. He began to squirm and felt his face growing hot. "There is something you're not telling me," Snape declared with a look of scrutiny.

Ah, this was the Snape Harry was more used to.

"The time for dissembling has passed, Harry. Let's get on with it," Snape sat back in his chair and waved his arm in front of him, instructing Harry to talk.

Harry was tired of keeping the truth inside of him. He was tired of not knowing things and wondering if he'd ruined the world with his impulsivity. He broke.

"All right, sir," Harry sighed. "But first, promise me you won't take any house points." Harry knew this condition was futile. His jaw dropped at the words that came out of Snape's mouth.

"Fine."

"Really?" Harry was incredulous.

"Yes," Snape frowned. "I am growing more concerned by the day at your current state. If I have to promise you to not take points, I am happy to do so as long as you tell me what is going on."

Harry decided to press his luck. "And you can't tell anyone. Especially my parents."

Snape's eyes narrowed at this. "Harry, I cannot promise that if what you tell me involves you hurting yourself or others. Or anyone else being in danger. You know this."

Harry sighed in relief. "No, it definitely doesn't." He paused. "At least, I don't think it does."

Snape tilted his head in agreement. "All right then."

Harry inhaled and held his breath as he tried to think of how to begin. He had no idea. He figured he'd just have to let things spew out in whatever order they wanted. "I stole something," he finally blurted out.

"Stole something?" Snape sounded curious. "That doesn't sound like you, Harry. What did you steal?"

Harry closed his eyes as he spoke, not wanting to see Snape's reaction. He assumed he would hear it well enough. "A Time Turner." Harry was again surprised by Snape's words.

"A Time Turner? Whyever would you need a Time Turner?" Snape's voice was gentle, not at all harsh or rebuking. It unsettled Harry, and he opened his eyes. "And from whom did you take this device?" Snape tagged on.

Harry felt even worse, although he hadn't been sure that was possible. "Professor Dumbledore."

He saw Snape nod in recognition. "Why?" Snape asked again.

"I needed it," Harry stated stupidly. Snape rolled his eyes. It made Harry feel oddly more at ease. Before Snape could speak again, Harry continued. "I had to fix something."

"What did you need to fix?" Snape prompted after a moment of Harry's silence.

Harry didn't know how to explain the situation since Snape would presumably have no knowledge of Voldemort, if his previous conversation with Hermione was any indication. "Do you remember Grindelwald?" Harry finally tried.

"Well, not personally, he was captured before I was born," Snape admitted. "But yes, I do know who you mean."

Harry sighed with resolve as he plowed ahead. "Well, you know how he was awful and killed people and did horrible things before Professor Dumbledore beat him?" Snape nodded. "Well, I had to use the Time Turner for something like that."

Snape's face and voice grew sharp. "You used the Time Turner to change something Grindelwald did?"

Harry shook his head and Snape's gaze relaxed. Harry knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. "No, not him. Another wizard. One named Voldemort. Well, not really that, his name was Tom Riddle. And he was born after Grindelwald. He was worse. Much, much worse."

"Harry," Snape's voice issued a warning. "What did you do?"

"I had to," Harry whispered, staring at his hands in his lap. "I know you can't understand, but I had to. I didn't know what else to do. I just couldn't…I couldn't live with it. I knew I wouldn't be able to. I had to change it. Fix it. I had to."

"Harry," Snape's voice was sharp again, commanding Harry's attention. "What. Did. You. Do?"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and paused for what felt like an eternity before forcing a whisper, "I used the Time Turner to go back and…I killed him."

Snape's silence piqued Harry's interest and he opened his eyes; Snape's face had paled to a deathly white.

"Well, really, I killed his mother – I don't think that much mattered, she died giving birth to him anyway. I killed her so he would never be born." Harry felt an indescribable sense of release after he finished his admission. He felt like he should justify things further, though, because it looked like Snape might actually pass out. Or smack him. Or both. "I mean, I _had_ already killed him. So really, I didn't do anything I hadn't already done. I just killed him before he had a chance to ruin everybody's lives. So I didn't do anything wrong…not really…" he trailed off.

Snape looked like he wanted to say a whole host of things but couldn't work out which one to let out first. It made him look faintly like he was choking and about to be sick at the same time.

"You…you killed someone?" Snape finally mangled out a question.

"Two people, actually," Harry corrected him. "Well, three if you count that I killed Voldemort twice," he mused.

"Harry," Snape continued with more force, "We must go see Madame Pomfrey at once. You are clearly not well. I will see if we can postpone your NEWTs until you have been sorted out." He stood and made to move from behind his desk.

"No!" Harry leapt to his feet. "Please! Let me explain! I'm not mad! Please, let me tell you everything and…and if you still think I'm barking once I've finished, you can take me anywhere you like."

Snape looked like he wanted to deny Harry's request, but thought better of it and sat back down. Harry followed suit and began babbling at top speed, knowing he probably had limited time.

"I had to do it, you don't understand. Voldemort was evil – he killed hundreds of people – loads more than Grindelwald. He was so much worse. He had followers, Death Eaters, they called themselves, and they killed people for him. He tortured and killed so many people, I couldn't live with it. He," Harry finally faltered, "He killed my parents." Harry heard Snape's sharp intake of breath. "There was a prophecy, it said that I was the only one who could defeat him, so he came to kill me. He killed my dad first to get to me, and then my mum refused to let him by her, so he killed her, too. Then he tried to kill me, but he couldn't. He cast the killing curse but it rebounded. He was destroyed for over ten years but he'd made horcruxes. He used them to make himself a new body – at the end of my fourth year. He came back and started killing again. He killed," Harry stumbled again, reliving the memories, "he killed Sirius. Well, not him, but Bellatrix did."

"Bellatrix Black?" Snape interrupted. Harry nodded. "She is in Azkaban – for illegal use of dark magic. She has been since before you were even born."

Harry didn't know quite what to say to this, so he continued his story instead. "Well, things just got worse after that. He got the dementors to join him and he took over the Ministry – he killed the Minister for Magic – not Kingsley, a bloke named Scrimegour – and they started rounding up muggle-borns and taking their wands and Dumbledore," Harry's breath hitched, "he told me how to defeat him. And I did. But not before Dumbledore…died."

"Died?" Snape asked forcefully.

Harry knew this was going to be the worst part of his confession. His eyes turned downward; he couldn't bear looking Snape in the eyes when he revealed this hard truth. "Yes. He died when," Harry ground the words out slowly, "when you killed him."

Snape shot up from his seat, causing Harry to jump and look back up at him. "Excuse me?" His eyes were blazing.

"You killed him. He asked you to, actually. He'd gotten himself cursed and he needed to make it look like you killed him because you were a spy – you became a Death Eater but then you spied for Dumbledore. You killed him to convince Voldemort that you were really loyal to him, but you kept working to bring him down. And then," Harry saw the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, "Voldemort killed you."

Snape sat back down, stunned into silence.

"I went back to see you, to take care of your body. I was there when you died. I saw it. But seeing you afterwards, lying there, dead, I – I just knew I had to do something. It was just wrong – all those people he'd hurt, killed; it was wrong. And so I fixed it."

The two of them sat there, unmoving, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Snape began shaking his head in disbelief.

"You don't believe me," Harry stated flatly. Snape continued shaking his head. "Fine, use Legilimency on me. I won't even try to block you. Not that I was ever any good at that anyway," he added under his breath.

That snapped Snape out of his trance. "How do you know about Legilimency?"

"Well, you used it when you tried to teach me Occlumency in my fifth year. I wasn't very good at it."

"I taught you Occlumency?" Snape seemed intrigued now – whether because he finally believed the story or wanted to see the depths of Harry's delusions Harry didn't know.

"You did a lot of stuff. You…you asked me before why I kept calling you Snape instead of Se…something else," Harry couldn't quite make the name 'Severus' come out of his mouth. "Well, it's because before I did this, you – well, you hated me. You hated everybody, really. Especially my dad – and Sirius. You made my life a living hell. It's really bizarre having you be so nice to me. That's why I asked you that day in the infirmary if you were someone else using Polyjuice. Before then, I'd never – ever – heard you call me Harry before."

"What did I call you?" Snape asked in spite of himself.

Harry let out a snort. "Well, I've actually been waiting to hear you call me 'idiot boy' or 'imbecilic child' or 'obnoxious brat' or something like that." Harry felt amusement at Snape's scandalized look. "Every time you called me 'Potter' it sounded like you were spitting nails."

Snape shook his head again.

"Look, if you don't want to use Legilimency, do you at least have a Pensieve? You could look at my memories in that – you'd know if they were tampered with, or false."

Snape was startled again. "How do you know what a Pensieve is? Never mind," he shook his head and waved his hand. "I don't need to do that. The fact that you're willing to share them leaves me little doubt that you are actually telling me the truth." With that, he sighed heavily and brought his fingertips together in front of his face, surveying Harry. Harry tried to hold back a smile at how similar Snape looked to Professor Dumbledore when he did that. "I shouldn't have to tell you that what you have done is beyond foolish." Harry nodded obediently. "And immensely dangerous." Harry nodded again. "And potentially catastrophic." Harry sunk lower into his chair. "Perhaps 'idiot boy' would be appropriate at this juncture," he smirked despite the gravity of the situation. "Tell me, does anything seem jarringly different – in a negative way?" Snape hoped Harry knew what he meant.

"Not that I can figure out," Harry admitted. "Everything seems completely the same. I mean, except for the people being alive that shouldn't. But that doesn't seem like a negative to me."

"Hmm," Snape nodded thoughtfully. "Well, we have to do something to ensure you haven't upset some delicate balance in the universe. Give me the Time Turner." Snape held out his hand. Harry stood reluctantly and took it from around his neck and placed it in the open palm. "Well," Snape mused as he looked at the piece, "If I had any doubts before, they are now dispelled. You certainly did _not_ fabricate this. I shall return it to the Headmaster."

"But!" Harry protested.

Snape held up his hand to cut Harry off. "I shan't tell him where it came from or in any way divulge our conversation, but it does need to be returned. I certainly wouldn't want you to get any more untoward ideas." Harry relaxed. "So, how can we go about seeing if your abysmal judgment caused any unwanted lingering effects?" Snape spoke more to himself than to Harry.

"Well," Harry thought aloud, "Perhaps you can tell me everything you know about how things have been for the last fifty years? That's the rough time frame. Maybe it will even help my memories sort themselves out. Maybe I'll be all right in time for NEWTs."

Snape raised one brow before making his decision. "All right, I suppose it can't hurt. Get comfortable," he drawled, and launched into his account.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Harry was relieved. Hearing Snape tell him everything did indeed help him catalogue his memories. He felt more organized and 'right' than he had in weeks, and he told Snape so. He also told Snape that nothing else seemed out of the ordinary – it was as if Voldemort had just popped out of existence and everything else stayed in line – with some positive benefits: Hagrid had not been expelled but was hired by Dumbledore after finishing school to be groundskeeper and Assistant Care of Magical Creatures instructor. Neville lived with his parents, who had never been touched by Bellatrix or the Cruciatus curse. There was still evil in the world – bad wizards who did bad things, but the Aurors took care of that, for the most part.

Harry was surprised when his stomach growled – it was nearly time for dinner. Snape apologized – yet another shock to Harry – and stood from behind his desk so they could go to the Great Hall. Before they left, though, Snape clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry tried not to cringe away.

"Are you feeling better?" Snape inquired genuinely. Harry nodded. "Good," Snape smiled, and reflexively pulled Harry in for a hug. Harry stiffened at the unexpected closeness, and Severus tried to separate them. "Sorry," he apologized, "I forget that you have only known this side of me for a few weeks."

"It's all right," Harry allowed, and tentatively wrapped his arms around Snape to hug him back. It actually felt kind of nice, Harry admitted to himself. "Do you still love my mother?" Harry asked softly into Severus' chest before he could stop himself.

This time, Severus really did pull back and look down at Harry. "Pardon?"

"My mum. In the other…time…you were in love with my mum. You made a bargain with Voldemort for him not to kill her so you could be with her after me and my dad died."

Snape's face paled and he looked sick. "I…I did that?"

"You did, erm, a lot of things that you probably wouldn't do now," Harry averted his eyes. "So, do you? Love her, I mean?" Harry couldn't explain why this was important to him; he just felt strongly that he needed to know.

"I care a great deal for your mother," Snape said genuinely. "I do love her, in a way…I think of her quite like a sister – a close sister. I never had any siblings and when I met your mother and became her friend, it felt like I finally had another member of my family. But, no, I do not love her in the way I think you suggest."

"Oh," Harry said simply.

"I…" Severus hesitated, moving away from Harry so that several feet of space separated them. "I don't love any woman, actually."

Harry's face registered confusion.

"I – I am gay, Harry. It is relatively common knowledge, but clearly not to you at this point. I apologize if this makes you uncomfortable."

"You're gay?" Harry couldn't believe it. "But, you aren't! You love her! Your Patronus is a doe! Just like hers! Why would you be straight then but gay now? That doesn't make sense," Harry trailed off.

"My Patronus is not a doe, Harry, at least not now. It has always been a Raven. As to your question about my apparent change in…preferences…I doubt we shall ever know. Suffice it to say that I am content with my current status and not at all disappointed that your meddling with time has altered it."

Harry nodded dumbly.

"Shall we go to dinner, then?" Snape held out his arm to direct Harry out the door. Harry obeyed and the pair made their way to the Great Hall.

Harry was quiet at dinner, content to just listen to nearby conversations about the way things were now. Fred and George had their joke shop – they had won their bet with Bagman at the World Cup back in Harry's fourth year, but they'd managed to get their winnings from him this time. Percy had never become estranged; Fudge had never made it into a high level Ministry position. At least, that was what Harry had deduced when Hermione had never heard of him. Harry kept trying to find a chink in the armor – an event, a realization that he'd done something to make this world worse off than it had been before, but he wasn't finding it. He wanted to give in to the hope he felt burgeoning in his chest, but he couldn't latch onto it yet – there was still so much he didn't know. He still knew that there was a chance he'd have to undo what he'd done.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

NEWTs were approaching, and Harry needed serious help. He was fairly certain that between Hermione's help and extra tutoring from his professors that he would pass – even excel, maybe – in Charms, Defense, and Transfiguration. Potions, however, was a different story. A dismal, tragic story. He'd missed not just his seventh year, but most of his sixth, thanks to cheating off of "The Prince". Combined with the stress of failing the Potions NEWT, he was also having anxiety over his situation with Ginny. He'd had several conversations with her – even tried to get her alone, but it seemed clear to him that in this timeline, they hadn't ever dated. He finally asked Hermione about it – only a few hours before Potions, when he was going to break down and ask Snape for help.

"Erm, Hermione, can I ask you a question?" Harry began uncomfortably once the common room cleared out for lunch.

"Of course," she answered. "What about?"

"Well, it's about Ginny," he admitted. Hermione's face furrowed in confusion.

"What about her?" she questioned.

"Well, I was just…could you tell me…have we ever, you know, been together?" Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "I mean," Harry hastily continued, "Do you know if she fancies me or anything like that?" When Hermione's eyes grew impossibly wider at the second question, Harry realized it hadn't had the effect he'd been going for.

"Ginny?" she squeaked out, finally. "You…_you_ and Ginny?"

Harry nodded, praying she wouldn't ask probing questions. He'd managed to keep the Time Turner incident from her this long, and he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he had to tell her now.

"Erm," Hermione was clearly stalling, "Well, no, you and Ginny haven't ever, I mean, no, she doesn't fancy you. You…she…she's like your sister, I think," Hermione trailed off.

Harry sighed, although he wasn't quite as distraught as he thought he ought to be – he chalked it up to the whole dual memory thing.

"Well, what about Cho? Did she and I ever make a go of it?" Harry asked again.

"Who?" Hermione was perplexed. "That Ravenclaw seeker a year ahead of us? I didn't even know you knew her."

Harry was getting annoyed. "Well, am I dating anyone, then? Or do I have some weird self-imposed celibacy thing going on?"

Hermione's face flushed crimson and her breathing seemed to get shallow. Harry misunderstood.

"Oh God, I'm dating you, aren't I?" He nearly shouted.

"What?" Hermione snapped her head back up and shrieked. "No! Merlin Harry, no! I…Ron…we, we've been together for a while. No, you and I have never – ever…" she seemed too embarrassed to finish.

Harry sighed in relief. "Well then? Is there anyone? Anyone I _am_ with?"

The blush crept back into Hermione's cheeks. "I – I don't think so. You haven't told me about anyone."

"Well I've got to be interested in someone – maybe Luna?" Harry shuddered at the thought of this possibility.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Lovegood? Harry, even you have better taste than that."

Harry breathed another sigh of relief.

"Harry, you're not…there aren't any girls you're interested in," she said softly.

Harry drew his brows together in disbelief. "How do you know? Maybe I haven't told you about them."

"No, Harry," Hermione was almost apologetic, "I know. I…oh, Harry, I wish you remembered…I – Harry, you're gay."

Harry let out a bark of laughter. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" he held his sides and nearly fell off the couch. When he finally saw that Hermione was on the verge of tears, he sobered. "You're serious," he choked. "I…wait, how do you know I'm gay? Are you sure?"

"You told me fourth year. You never told me exactly how you figured it out, but you mentioned something one time about the Hufflepuff seeker, Cedric."

Harry reeled. "Diggory? Is he alive, then?" he drew in a sharp breath.

Hermione quirked her brow. "I assume so; I haven't seen him since he left Hogwarts."

Harry exhaled. Another life saved, then. "Who else knows?" Hermione didn't seem to follow. "About me being…gay."

Hermione pursed her lips in discomfort. "Most people, actually. You told me first, and waited a bit to tell the others, but our whole year knows, pretty much. And you were terrified to tell your parents, but they've been very supportive."

"Huh." Harry mused. So he was gay, then. Strange. He didn't feel gay. He still wanted to be with Ginny. Maybe it was the whole dual memories thing. Maybe his body hadn't caught up with his mind. Or vice versa. "Am I happy? Being gay?" he wondered.

"I think so," Hermione ventured. "You've never said you wish you weren't, if that helps."

Harry nodded. "It does. Thanks. We should get to lunch – don't want to be late for Potions." He tried to keep a neutral face as he said it, but it didn't quite work. Hermione narrowed her eyes and evaluated him for a moment before standing and heading out with him to the Great Hall.

Harry stood behind Hermione that day in Potions. When he'd learned they were to be making a potion from earlier in the year that might show up on their NEWTs, one that required four cauldrons simultaneously, Harry had admitted to Snape that he should probably sit this one out – he didn't want anything exploding. Snape had given him a long look filled with a variety of emotions but had eventually given a curt nod and allowed Harry to simply observe. Ten minutes in and Harry was convinced he'd made the right decision. The period dragged on but eventually drew to a close and the students corked their vials and turned them in. Snape dismissed them at the bell but Harry lingered. He figured Snape would want to talk to him anyway, so he might as well initiate it. He couldn't help feeling like he was going to get a detention or lose points or endure a barrage of insults. He couldn't quite push away the nagging thoughts that Snape would be sure to refuse to give him extra help. But he had to try. He couldn't afford to fail his NEWTs – even if it was Potions.

"Sir," Harry began when Snape had stared him down until Harry had to look away.

"Yes, Harry?" Snape had come over to the table in front of where Harry stood and perched himself on the edge.

"I – I was wondering if – well, I need some help – and I thought maybe you could – would maybe – help me?"

Snape raised a single brow.

"With my Potions, sir. I know NEWTs are right around the corner and I'm going to fail them for sure if I can't get some extra help with them. I've got the other subjects down but I can't – I can't do anymore without someone's help in Potions, and Hermione's already giving up so much of her time to help me with other stuff and – I just thought I might ask – I know you don't want to…" Harry stammered.

"Don't want to?" Snape finally cut Harry off. "I've been waiting for you to come to me, Harry. I would have offered before but I know you well enough to know that you need to ask for help and not have it be offered to you first. Something sticky about Gryffindor pride or some ridiculousness." Snape couldn't quite contain his smirk.

Harry's chest lifted. "You'll help me, then? Really?"

Snape shook his head with a chuckle. "I must have been one hell of a bastard before if you're that scared of me."

This time it was Harry who couldn't hold back a chortle. "You were."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Well, let's get started then, shall we?"

"Now?" Harry was incredulous.

"Unless you have previous engagements," Snape teased. "As you correctly have observed, NEWTs are fast approaching and I would think that given your situation you would want to begin to recover your grasp on the subject as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed readily, "I just – never mind."

"I know, I know," Snape held up his hands in mock surrender. "You thought I wouldn't want to."

Harry bit his bottom lip in chagrin. Snape smiled affectionately at him and reached out to tousle his hair. "Brat," he teased. "Now, exactly how far behind are you? Did you even get an OWL in Potions last time?"

"Yeah, I got an E, and then I took Slughorn's Advanced Potions sixth year," Harry explained, but Snape cut him off.

"Slughorn? Why was he here?"

"Dumbledore moved you to Defense that year. Which was sort of good – you'd have never let me into your class with only an E."

Snape nodded in confirmation. "Good thing this time 'round you earned an O."

"But I really need you to help me with the stuff from sixth year, too – I didn't really learn much that year."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm a better instructor than Slughorn?" Snape asked sardonically.

"Erm, no – well, you kind of are, but that's not why I didn't learn much that year. I – I sort of cheated my way through the class."

Snape's eyebrows contracted with admonishment. "How does one 'sort of' cheat? And why would you do such a thing?"

"Well, the textbook I was using belonged to someone else – someone who was way better in Potions than I could ever be. He changed around lots of the ingredients and the steps – the first time I tried something he did, the results came out great – the best Slughorn said he'd ever seen. After that, I didn't _want_ to stop. The problem was, I was reading his instructions so much that I never really _learned_ any of it."

Snape's gaze was filled with curiosity. "Whose book was it?"

Harry looked at him sheepishly. "Yours."

Snape's eyes widened in genuine shock. "Mine? You got a copy of my old Potions textbook and…cheated off of me?"

"Sorry," was the only thing Harry could think to say.

"Did you know it was mine? From what you've told me of our…relationship…it doesn't seem like something you'd want to use."

"No, I figured it out after the year ended. I stopped using it, though, before then. I tried a spell you had written down and…it wasn't a good idea."

"Which spell would that be?" Harry sensed a lecture in Snape's tone.

"Erm, Sectumsempra," he admitted begrudgingly.

Snape's eyes narrowed into accusatory slits. "Did you know what the spell would do before you cast it?"

Harry shook his head looking at the floor.

"You cast a spell without knowing what the effect would be?" Snape was aghast. "I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps my other self had the right of it. You are an imbecile."

Harry grimaced. "I know. If it weren't for you, Malfoy would've died."

"You cast that spell at Draco Malfoy? Good Lord, boy, what kind of madness was going on in that other life?"

"He – we – it's complicated," Harry finally finished lamely.

Snape harrumphed and waved his hand. "That's neither here nor there, now. Come – we've much to do." He led Harry to the back of the classroom and proceeded to begin the much-needed tutoring.


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: VERY mature content - slash & language (if you're not a fan of slash or Snarry, turn back now!)**

Chapter 9

Harry sat on the far side of the lake, stretched out on his robe. His eyes were closed and he was enjoying the heat and the breeze of the early summer air. He started when he heard the voice behind him; he hadn't heard anyone approach.

"Well?" prodded Snape.

Harry's eyes opened and he twisted his neck back to stare up into Snape's glittering black eyes.

"How did they go?" Snape continued impatiently.

"Fine, I think," Harry told him. "I'm pretty sure I aced the written portions of everything and most of the practicals went all right. My Potion turned out a bit more royal blue than cobalt, but I think I've at least passed."

Snape nodded.

"When will they send the scores?" Harry asked him.

"Around the same time they sent OWL scores. Late July, most likely."

"When will you find out how we did?" Harry finally turned his whole body to face Snape so he didn't get a crick in his neck.

"Not until sometime in late August. They have to deal with appeals and don't publicly post the results until that process has ended," Snape explained.

"Hmm," Harry mused, looking down at the grass and plucking a nearby blade. "Do you think I could come and tell you what I got as soon as I hear?"

"Of course, Harry. I would like that very much. You are always welcome here." Snape smiled warmly, if a little sadly.

"Will you be here over the summer? Is this where you stay?"

"I live here, Harry. Yes, I will be here. You can Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk up or you are welcome to Floo directly into my quarters. Simply fire-call first to make sure I am available."

"What about Spinner's End?" Harry asked him suddenly. "Why don't you live there?"

"Spinner's End? My parents' cottage? I sold that when I became a professor here. I have no desire to go back there. I prefer Hogwarts."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I can understand that." He looked back up at Snape. "Thank you, sir, for everything these past few months. I – I'm not sure I'd have come out of it all right if you hadn't been there for me. I know I've been a bit of a berk to put up with – and I know what I did was far beyond stupid, but I can't find it in me to be sorry that I did it. And I appreciate you not trying to force me to go back and undo it. So thanks, for being there for me."

Snape's face registered an emotion that Harry couldn't quite make out. "I have always been here for you, Harry, and I shall continue to be as long as you need me or want me to be."

Harry felt an odd rush of emotion at hearing that, and once again felt insanely grateful that his impulsive decision had worked out so seemingly well. Snape turned his head to look back at the castle.

"We should go," he said, turning back to face Harry. "The feast will be starting soon, and I'm sure you want to spend as much time with your friends as you can this last evening."

Harry nodded as he pushed himself to his feet and picked up his robe, shaking off the grass and dirt. He and Snape walked up to the castle in silence, which wasn't as awkward as Harry thought it would have been before, when Snape had hated him. Right before they walked through the entrance doors, Snape paused and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry stopped and turned to look at Snape, who gave his shoulder a light squeeze before giving him a half smile and dropping the hand. Harry returned the smile a little hesitantly, but with genuine feeling.

"Well?" Harry's mother eyed him expectantly. "How are they?"

Harry grinned over the parchment. "Got all four – O's in everything except Transfiguration – got an E on that."

James clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Well done, son. Now you've got some work to do, only a few weeks before things will start to fill up."

Harry nodded. With everything that had gone on, he hadn't given much thought to what he would do after his exams. He thought about being an Auror, not sure if that's what he'd wanted to do in this timeline.

"Can I go tell Sna…Professor Snape my scores?" Harry asked his parents.

Lily furrowed her brow in confusion. "Severus? Of course. I'm sure he'd like that. You can fire-call him to see if he's in his quarters."

Harry refrained from shaking his head in disbelief. He still had trouble believing that his father wasn't a mortal enemy of Snape's and his parents weren't tying him down and preventing him from going to see the man. Harry almost snorted – he couldn't even believe that he _wanted_ to go see the man.

"Professor?" Harry called into the fire. He heard someone shuffling over to the fireplace.

"Harry?" Snape's head came into view. "I assume this is about your NEWT scores?"

Harry nodded. "Are you busy? I mean, I'd like to show them to you."

Snape smiled. "And you're not sure if I want to have you near me. Got it. Yes, Harry, come through. I have anxiously been awaiting news of your scores."

With that, Snape stepped away from the fire to make room for Harry to enter properly. Harry turned back to his parents, who were having a conversation at the breakfast table. "I'll go see him now, if that's all right," he asked gingerly.

James nodded.

"I'll be back soon. I won't – I mean, I won't be long," Harry stammered.

"You're of age, Harry, no need to abide by any sort of curfew," James let one corner of his mouth draw up into a smile. He exchanged a glance with Lily who seemed to become very interested in her eggs.

"Right. I mean, all right. Thanks." Harry turned back to the fireplace and stepped in to Floo to Snape's quarters.

"Hmmm," Snape drawled as Harry stumbled out of the fireplace. "I would have thought that being a singularly gifted Seeker would have graced you with better coordination."

Harry flushed. "Sorry, sir."

"For goodness' sake, Harry, I was teasing you. And please, don't call me 'sir' anymore, or 'professor'. I have missed you calling me Severus for the better half of this year."

Harry wasn't sure if he'd truly annoyed Snape now or what was going on. He decided to play it safe. "I'm sorry, erm, Severus," Harry stumbled over the name, feeling oddly disrespectful as it came out.

Snape shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Sit down," he waved at the couch. "Is that them?" he pointed at the parchment in Harry's hand. Harry nodded. "May I see them? Or would you prefer to simply tell me?"

Harry handed over the sheet and watched as Snape's – Severus' eyes roved over the scores. He found himself hoping Sna – Severus would be pleased with his achievements. The longer Sn – Severus took looking at the scores, though, the more Harry's stomach twisted in doubt. Maybe S – Severus would be unhappy that he hadn't managed all O's. His stomach plummeted with the thought of seeing disappointment in Severus' eyes. Would he regret helping Harry? Would things go back to the way they were before Harry had changed everything? Harry didn't think he could endure that – it had been so nice – wonderful, even, to have a relationship with Severus that hadn't consisted of loathing and hate. Why was he taking so long? What was he staring at? Why was…"

"Harry?" Severus snapped Harry out of his tumultuous thoughts. His hand rested on Harry's knee, which was absently bouncing. "Harry, what's wrong?" Harry snapped his eyes down to Severus' hand and back up to his eyes. "You sound like you're hyperventilating." Harry's eyes flicked down to the parchment and then back up to Severus expectantly. "Oh," Severus smiled and took his hand away from Harry's leg. "I apologize – well done, Harry. These are excellent. I am so very pleased for you." Severus handed the sheet back to Harry. "I am especially happy to see such a quality Potions score. It seems our extra work was not wasted."

"Thank you, Severus," Harry only stumbled a little over the name this time. "I'd have failed for sure if it hadn't been for you – and Hermione." Harry snorted. "She probably got ten NEWTs – I'm sure I'll have an owl from her waiting when I get home."

Severus chuckled. "I don't doubt it." There was a silence. "Would you like tea?"

"Sure, I mean, please," Harry agreed. Severus stood and made his way into the kitchen, coming out a few moments later with the tea tray. He poured them both a cup and they sipped in silence before Harry couldn't stand it anymore. "What did I want to do?" he blurted out. "I mean, before, I wanted to be an Auror – is that what I want to do now? Did I ever talk with you about it?"

Severus concentrated. "A bit. More with Sirius, I think. I never heard you mention being an Auror, but that doesn't mean you don't want to be one. Are you thinking of applying? Your scores would certainly qualify you."

"Maybe – what did I talk with you about? What did I tell you?" Harry pressed.

Severus shifted on the couch. "You once mentioned teaching. You also seemed intrigued with the idea of apprenticeship. And you never said no to someone proposing Quidditch."

"Teaching?" Harry was surprised. "Teaching what?"

"Mmm, you always enjoyed Defense," Severus paused. "And Potions."

Harry's mental jaw dropped. "What about apprenticeships? Who did I seem interested in?"

Severus stared at him unblinking until Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks and he looked away. "Me," Severus stated flatly.

Harry's stomach started fluttering as if his breakfast had suddenly started up a marching band. "I – I seemed," Harry stammered, "in-interested in y-you?"

It was Severus' turn to look away, answering Harry softly. "For quite a while, now. Perhaps since the end of your fifth year. You began asking me about it then. I'm not sure if that's when the…idea…first occurred to you or if it had before then, but…" Severus trailed off.

Harry forced himself to look back at Severus. "Do you know I'm gay?" he finally choked out.

Severus continued to stare at the fireplace. "Yes."

"Did I tell you or did you find out some other way?"

"You told me." Severus' gaze remained fixed on some intriguing point on the mantle.

"When?" Harry's voice dropped to a whisper.

"The end of your fifth year," Severus answered, equally as low.

There was a pause that seemed to last an eon while Harry stared at Severus and Severus stared at the bricks across the room.

"Did we – I mean, did I ever – did we ever," Harry stuttered, blushing furiously.

"No!" Severus finally looked back at Harry. "No, of course not. Of course not."

Harry exhaled in relief. He thought he saw Severus' face fall a fraction. "I wasn't before, you know. I was in love with Ginny. I didn't know – Hermione told me. It was odd, at first. Still odd, I suppose. She said I wasn't with – with anyone. I don't remember being with anyone."

There was another awkward pause as they stared at each other, Harry's heart beating like a racehorse.

"Do you live here with anyone?" Harry finally found the courage to ask.

"No," Severus answered. "I am not currently in a relationship at all. I have not been for quite some time."

"Oh," Harry said lamely.

Severus began speaking again very tentatively. "I had hoped, perhaps one day, when you came of age, that we might, that you might – I hoped I had read you correctly. And then you took that fall and I learned what you thought of me – of before. I knew that…I knew then that you would no longer – that we would never. I know how you feel about me, Harry. I know I'm still that man who hated you. I understand." He smiled thinly. "I cannot pretend it does not disappoint me, though."

"But you're not," Harry protested, trying to make sense of his world that suddenly seemed to have tipped upside down. "You're not him anymore. Not to me, I – I do want…I'm not sure when I realized it, but…all your help this year, and – when you would do little things like smile at me, or squeeze my shoulder I – I just, I felt it. I didn't realize what it was until now, but…I have the good memories, too. I have them, too. I remember, too. I do want it. I do," he tried desperately to say something that would bring the light back into Severus' eyes.

Severus turned to set down his tea on the end table next to the couch and Harry did the same. When they both turned around, Severus had an appraising look in his eyes – a hesitant look. He slid himself over so he was closer to Harry, so he didn't have to reach. He looked at Harry with such intensity that Harry was unable to look away. He saw Severus' fingers out of the corner of his eye reaching up to make contact with his cheek. He felt the fingertips ghost along his jaw line and his skin burned like it had been set on fire – a deep, lovely fire. He stopped breathing. Severus held Harry's gaze ferociously as he brought one finger under Harry's chin and tilted his head up slightly. Severus' eyes were searching Harry's – what for, Harry didn't know – but he apparently found it because in the next instant Severus brought his lips to Harry's and they touched with the slightest pressure.

Harry felt like a switch had been flipped. He hadn't 'felt' gay before. His mind was registering that Hermione told him he was – he even remembered telling her himself. But he hadn't felt _gay_. Until now. Now he knew without a doubt that this was _right_. That this was who he was. That he had always wanted this – wanted Severus. He sighed with a smile and leaned into Severus' lips.

Harry's movement brought a groan to the back of Severus' throat and he brought his other hand up to cup the back of Harry's neck, pressing their mouths even closer together. Severus gently slipped his tongue across Harry's lips, which parted at his touch, and suddenly their tongues came together like they had minds of their own. Harry's whole body was on fire. He didn't know when it had happened, but his hands were wrapped around Severus, practically clawing at him.

"Want," Harry panted when he broke away for air. "You – I – please…" he was unable to put together a coherent thought.

Severus trailed kisses until he reached Harry's ear. "Are you sure?" he whispered.

"Oh gods, yes," Harry moaned. "Please…"

Severus moved back, standing and pulling Harry with him. Once they were off the couch, they resumed their exploration of each other more fully – hands roaming, mouths nipping, sucking sensitive skin. Harry threw his head back to give Severus more space to work with and he felt himself go weak in the knees when Severus bit gently on a particularly sensitive place on his neck.

"I believe we should move this escapade," Severus growled. "For safety reasons. I'll not have you passing out on me."

Harry nodded his head.

"Come," Severus directed, fully aware of the double entendre he'd just issued. He dragged Harry to his bedroom and pushed him against the bed, fingers deftly moving to take off shirts, pants, and any other offending clothing. As they both lost items, hands and bodies came together to discover new textures: nipples, coarse hair, muscles. Harry was assaulted with sensory overload. In the back of his mind, he was sure Severus had done this before, but to Harry it was all new – and so overwhelming. In such a good way.

"Please," Harry finally begged again.

So swiftly he felt like he was falling over, Severus maneuvered them both horizontally onto the bed, pinning Harry beneath him. He could feel Severus' prick pressing into his hip and he was painfully aware of his own arousal against Severus' thigh. His gasps and moans were swallowed by Severus' mouth as their lips crushed against each other. They both ground their bodies together and Harry finally had to push Severus away with as much force as he could muster.

"Stop!" Harry breathed. Severus froze and pulled back, face laden with dejection. "No, I mean, I'm going to come if you don't stop – I – I want it to last a bit longer than this," Harry pulled a renewed Severus back in for another kiss. Before he knew it, Severus was trailing kisses down his chest, sucking his nipples and making him writhe in ecstasy. Severus ventured lower and lower until he was laving at Harry's groin and his inner thighs. Harry had the sheets fisted in his hands as if they had somehow displeased him and he arched sharply off the bed as Severus took him into his mouth.

"Fuck!" Harry screamed. His body was exploding. The feel of Severus' mouth – the wetness, the heat, the tongue – Harry thought he might actually die. He realized he was babbling incoherently and Severus began to suck in earnest. Harry screamed as he came, bright lights bursting behind his eyes as his body spasmed in release. Severus kept Harry in his mouth until the shudders subsided and then dragged himself back up to Harry for more kisses. Harry could feel Severus' need along his leg as he made his way toward the pillows.

"What about," Harry breathed between kisses, not fully recovered from his experience, "you? Do you want," he squirmed to try and reciprocate.

"No," Severus murmured into Harry's neck, keeping him in place. "Not that," and Harry felt Severus' fingers trail down as far as they would go. Harry's breathing sped up again, already starting to harden even though he'd just come. "Would you like to? Do you want me to? We don't have to," Severus whispered as he outlined Harry's ear with his tongue.

"Oh yes," Harry begged, moving to press harder against Severus' fingers. "Fuck, yes, please, oh gods, I want you inside me, Severus," Harry pleaded.

Severus summoned the lube and quickly coated his fingers. He went slowly so Harry wouldn't be quite as sore. Harry cried out as the first finger entered him – burning a bit before he was able to bear down and relax. Soon he was writhing against the finger and he let out a moan of discontent when it was withdrawn. He yelped when it came back with a friend, but was soon mumbling incoherencies as Severus scissored his fingers and stroked a spot of pleasure so strong Harry nearly passed out. After a third finger had satisfactorily stretched him, Harry demanded, "Now!"

Severus moved between Harry's legs and let Harry wrap himself around Severus. Harry was burning with anticipation as he felt Severus position himself at his entrance. Slowly, painfully, and gloriously, Severus entered Harry. It felt like he was on fire, but Harry bit his lip and rode out the pain. Finally, Severus had completely sheathed himself and Harry realized he was achingly hard again. Severus slowly began to move, drawing out of Harry and pushing back in. After a few strokes, Harry had had enough and he began to rock his hips in desperation. Severus took the hint and sped up his pace, bringing one hand up to stroke Harry in rhythm. He supported himself over Harry on his other arm and as they moved together, his hair brushed Harry's face. Harry heard Severus whispering endearments and words of pleasure as they pitched together and Harry felt his climax build and then he cried out Severus' name as he spurted all over the hand around him and his own belly. His muscles clenched and he felt Severus emptying into him as well. Severus shouted out Harry's name and then collapsed atop of his lover, sweaty from the exertion. He pulled out of Harry and rolled to the side to prevent crushing him.

"Holy Fuck," Harry said, running his hand through his damp hair.

"I'm not sure it was holy," Severus said dryly as his breathing slowed, "But it was most definitely a fuck."

They entwined their bodies and stroked each other gently in the silence – this time a comfortable one. Finally, Harry spoke.

"I keep waiting for it," he said into Severus' chest.

"For what?" Severus asked, kissing Harry's head softly.

"For me to find out something awful has happened and I have to go back and undo this."

"Mmm," Severus made a non-committal noise.

"I don't want to undo this. I've never been this happy."

"Perhaps," Severus mused, "have you thought about the possibility that _nothing_ awful has happened?"

"What?" Harry pulled back to look at Severus.

"Did you ever think that maybe this was the way things _ought_ to have been and that other life was some sort of cosmic blunder?"

Harry blinked, nonplussed.

"Perhaps your decision was more right than you know. Perhaps it was just some way of time getting back on track. A course-correction of sorts."

"You're brilliant, you know," Harry smiled.

"I do," Severus kissed his forehead. "That is one of the many reasons you love me, I'm sure."

"Pity I'm not nearly as much of a genius. You'll have to find some other reason to love me back."

"I think I might be able to manage that," Severus smiled wryly.

They held each other in silence for another amount of time.

"Thank you," Severus finally said, pulling Harry closer to him.

"For what?" Harry's voice was muffled.

"For saving me. I know you said I…died…before. Thank you for going back and saving me. I'm glad that you did."

"So am I, Severus," Harry wriggled closer to the warm body of his lover. "So am I."

::FINIS::


End file.
